


Freak of Nature

by OfTheFalls



Category: No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Circus, Freak Show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-02
Updated: 2014-08-11
Packaged: 2018-02-07 04:35:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1885356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OfTheFalls/pseuds/OfTheFalls
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Come, my little children, you creatures and Freaks.<br/>Hush, my crying children, so lost and so meek.<br/>Stay, my broken children, now you work for me.<br/>I'll pay you for your pain, or you'll perish for free."</p>
<p>(Story based off of this RP <a href="http://www.chickensmoothie.com/Forum/viewtopic.php?f=28&t=1826187#p56578469">here</a> )</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lights Up.

        "Ladies and gentlemen." A sudden voice pervaded throughout the spacious interior of the big top tent, filling every corner equally despite the tent's distinct lack of speakers. No movement was seen through the depth of the blackness surrounding the stage in the silence that followed. Soon, the ray of a single spotlight reached down and parted the sea of darkness to reveal a tall, lone figure bent into a low bow. One black-gloved hand rested near the figure's head as it held his black-and-white, vertically striped top hat so that it did not fall from the tilt of the bow. He wore a black tailcoat and a vest of the same black-and-white striped pattern as his hat. The tip of a black umbrella rested against the ground, the curved burgundy rosewood handle being held by the figure's other gloved hand.  
  
        Again the voice was heard, this time quieter. It crept through the bleachers like a fog and settled on the audience, drawing shivers from some of the spectators and coaxing interest out of every mind present in the room. "I advise those possessing weak hearts or frightened dispositions to abscond _now_. This will be your only warning." The figure lifted his head to view the audience and a wide-eyed boy suddenly stood, exiting the tent with halting, panicked steps. The man in the ring continued to speak before the child was even all the way out of the room: "Welcome to Sideshow. I am Ringmaster." The lithe form of the lean man straightened to its full height. His straight hair- which framed his pale face and nearly covered his right eye- was an unusual shade of burgundy. His piercing, searching irises were the same strange burgundy as his hair, their color framed and accentuated by black liner around his eyes. His thin smiling lips were painted a metallic silver. "Would you like to meet my family now? They have ever so much to teach you. They want you to join us. They see that you're a Freak of Nature too." With this, he stepped to the side and gestured into the darkness behind him with a wide sweep of his arm.  
  
       With a sudden burst of activity, the darkness bloomed, spewing forth beings of many species and ages and earning a collective yelp from the suspense-ridden crowd. Some flew, some crawled, some popped in and out of existence in various ways, and nearly all of them were children. One or two of the less terrifying creatures appeared in the audience, causing Ringmaster to utter a low-toned laugh of amusement at the gasps of astonishment. His silver lips parted into a Chesire-like grin as he directed the flow of creatures with a wave of his arm. They spiraled upwards and around the Ringmaster, though the cocoon of activity did not seem to muffle his words at all:  
  
 _Come, my little children_  
 _You creatures and Freaks_  
  
 _Hush, my crying children_  
 _So lost and so meek_  
  
 _Stay, my broken children_  
 _And soon you will see_  
  
 _They'll pay us for our pain_  
 _ **Or we'll perish for free.**_


	2. Lights Down.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stowaways are always a problem for any traveling circus, but Ringmaster is very good at dealing with problems. He isn't very gentle nor kind with trouble-makers and problems, but no one ever said he was the gentle, kind type in the first place.

        When the spotlights went on, Ringmaster's energy spiked. He was the leader of the stage now, the master of everyone's undivided attention. With each new act, he purred words of suspense into the crowd, his voice stroking the curiosity of the keener audience members and beckoning them deeper into the wonders of the world of Freaks. Ringmaster always relished this part of the job. It required showmanship. It required finesse. It even required a pinch of careful, subtle seduction. As each Freak went on stage, he displayed their unnatural and uncanny abilities with pride, grinning as he drank in every reaction from his spectators. To him, this was euphoria. This was his high.  
  
        "Thank you for joining us this night in our world of Freaks," he voiced, addressing the crowd hidden away in the darkness before him when the finale had passed away. "Consider this gathering your initiation. Welcome to the family. As you leave our tented home to rejoin the mundanes below you, remember this..." Ringmaster's eyes suddenly turned focused, his umbrella lifting to point into the crowd. It moved slowly, sliding from left to right so that every section on the bleachers was indicated. "I see you, Freak of Nature. There is no going back."  
  
        Lights down. _Applause._  
  
       In the outskirts of a small town in Florida, a dark red and white pinstriped big top tent sat in a dry grassy field, tall and quiet. One could tell that the faded tarp material was old, though no individual in the crowd exiting the tent would ever be able to guess just _how_ old. Stretched behind the tent and away from the lonely interstate road curved a circus caravan whose gypsy-like wooden wagons hinted further at the circus's true age. The foremost wagon sported two empty harnesses that weren't quite the right size for any sort of mules or horses. The position of "caboose" for the wagon train was occupied by one wagon-sized cage which also stood empty for the moment. The wagons had been purged of all life for the show, their inhabitants now occupying the unmarked tent as they gathered their props and their wits about them. Show business could be nerve-wracking, even for those who enjoyed the stage.  
  
        Ringmaster remained in the tent to oversee the cleanup. He would have liked Sideshow to stay in town for one more show, but there was something about the local chief of police that prompted him to move on as quickly as he could. Ringmaster's initial trip through town had been rather routine. He'd stayed long enough to get a feel of the people and the officials before deeming the place show-worthy. Every area had its own level of tolerance for all things strange and illegal. This town was just barely lethargic enough to let his freak show proceed without protest. In order to seal that safety, the usual bribe had to be offered up to the head of law enforcement. In this case, this female police chief had sent out some unreassuring signals. Ringmaster could sense it like a hovering scent around the woman. He could smell it on her even as they closed their deal: a conscience. It was for this reason that Ringmaster could not trust this town further than the extent of one show.  
  
       Promptly, a body passed by Ringmaster too closely and triggered his compulsion towards sadistry, causing him to reach out and snag the Freak by the arm. Like a snake capturing a skittering mouse, he quickly pulled in and held on firmly. "Shibō Nashi," he voiced with a tone of disapproval as the boy hunched over defensively in his grip, "that is not the way to hold that equipment." He watched the adolescent adjust the myriad of poles in his arms and grow still again, awaiting his release.  
  
        Shibō had received special interest from Ringmaster as of late. It was just recently that the man had noticed the boy's preferred attire and taken a mixture of offense and interest. Shibō's way of dressing was so close to Ringmaster's that some Freaks had made the horrendous mistake of referring to the boy as "your son". No sooner would someone make this erroneous assumption than Ringmaster would snuff the life out of the silly idea with deft and malicious intent. Just because Shibō too had a top hat did not mean he was Ringmaster's kin!  
  
        Ringmaster surveyed the article covering Shibō's ear-legnth black hair, his upper lip curling in distaste. The hat had become a storage space for the boy. A red belt had been wrapped around the thing and buckled in the front. Various small hoops of metal clung to the brim as well as clothespins- just in case. An ace of spades card hung by a small chain from the top edge of the hat, acting as Shibō's most prominent good luck charm for performing. Over the pale-skinned boy's carelessly unbuttoned white dress shirt sat a dark red vest which held an old chained watch in the breast pocket. A red tie hung loosely around his neck. His hat-and-vest costume appeared far too similar to Ringmaster's preferred outfit, and the man hated it. He had yet to convince the stubborn boy to change styles.  
  
        "Your hat is on crooked, boy," the tall man scolded as he reached up to correct Shibō's breach in hat etiquette. Ringmaster's long fingers stopped fiddling with the brim as something bumped against the inside of the hat. "What is this?" Shibō tensed as the cap was abruptly lifted to reveal what was inside "What!" The younger one cringed under Ringmaster's harsh tone. " _Why_ is there a _cat_ sitting on your head??"  
  
        The cat was small, appearing to be of adolescent age. Its fur was a canvas of black, only interrupted by the two emerald orbs that were its expressive irises. Instead of reacting to Ringmaster in a fearful manner, the little cat continued to perch comfortably on Shibō's black hair,  kneading its paws against his scalp and then sending a perplexingly matter-of-fact sort of mew to the man that had lifted its hat cave away.  
  
        "I-it's not a cat," Shibō responded frantically, clearly made anxious by the little creature's unexpected discovery.  
  
        "Yes, and I'm not your dashing Master of the Ring," the burgundy-haired man retorted with grouchy sarcasm. "Honestly, you children start up your shenanigans far too quickly. It hasn't even been an hour after the last act and already I have to remind you of the NO FREELOADERS rule. A common house cat cannot make any money for me here!" The boy began to squeak out a response, but Ringmaster hushed him with an index finger placed over Shibō's mouth. The hand holding the Shibō's hat was now propped with the wrist against Ringmaster's hip. His tone of voice had taken on a sassy sort of drawl by now to enforce his no-nonsense stance in the conversation. "Ah ah ah, no freeloaders. No useless pets. Get rid of it before I drown it _for_ you," he insisted with a haughty sniff. The cat seemed somewhat taken aback by this; or at least, as taken aback as a cat's animal features can express.  
  
        "But it's a GIRL!"  
  
        ...Shibō had expressed this new information with such exasperation that his flailing arm nearly caught Ringmaster in the face. The adolescent boy's wrist now rested in mid-air, entrapped by his circus master's hand only centimeters from the man's makeup-lined eyes. Through a hanging silence under which it pained Shibō to remain, both males shared a mutual understanding: That was too close. The only barrier of safety around the boy now was the frantic announcement which held an opportunity of gain for Ringmaster.  
  
        "It's a Freak," the man voiced, expressing the words as a statement rather than a question. "And... how long has this shape shifter been traveling with us?"  
  
        Something in Ringmaster's voice prompted Shibō to stretch the truth. "Ah, only a day-"  
  
        Ringmaster's hand dropped the boy's pale wrist to interrupt his words with a grab to Shibō's collar. " _Liar_ ," he snarled, holding their faces close enough for Shibō to taste the palpable danger on his tongue. But just as soon as he'd been grabbed, the young male was roughly released and shoved away. In the space of a moment, Ringmaster had suddenly snapped into attention like an army general. "Right then! I have some business to attend to! Apparently we have some new recruits that slunk in without permission..." He spun around and dramatically pointed his umbrella at the cat atop Shibō Nashi's head. "And we have some AWOL soldiers to punish!" He about-faced again, this time thrusting his umbrella towards two amorous Freaks whose attempt to sneak back into camp was now thwarted in an instant. He smirked at them, amused. "Perhaps we should re-introduce the gallows to this platoon?"  
  
        A voice off to his side distracted Ringmaster before he could elaborate on his hyperbolic threat. It was Jacob, the animal keeper. "Another stowaway." The deep voice of the young man reverberated strongly, accentuating his actions as he let a strange boy drop from his sinuous grip. As the two "AWOL soldiers" hurried away under cover of Ringmaster's distraction, the tall man turned and bent at the waist to get a better look at the male youngling before him. The youth was blatantly freakish, even painfully so. His green skin and metallic silver eyes would have made him stand out in any crowd. His bat-like wings, elongated pointed ears, and long barb-tipped tail spoke of dragon lineage.  
  
        "Thank you, Jacob." Ringmaster offered the small token of gratitude to his loyal animal keeper, acknowledging the efforts of his eldest and most longstanding Freak with no more than those three short words. He quickly turned his attention from the brunette man standing before him and looked down at the dragon boy curled up in the dirt, his eyes narrowing. "Stowaway, hm? Indeed, now you have thrust yourself into my debt by stealing my services. Food and board is not free here." The sound of a quiet voice was barely heard from the green creature, its tone high-pitched with throat-constricting fear. Ringmaster did not bother to ask for a repetition of the incoherent words. "You must work off your debt. Would you believe it, I might even have an opening for you in my show." The boy moved his green calloused hands from his face, revealing tufts of pink uncombed hair underneath. His wide, slit-pupilled eyes regarded Ringmaster with silent horror, brimming with tears as the man knelt down into a crouch to address the boy. "Do not waste my time, or I will gladly pull your debt from you in another way. It is not so hard to separate one's fingers from one's hands... as long as one has a sturdy spoon, heh heh. What is your name?"  
  
        Finally, the creature spoke audibly, his voice thick with a rough foreign accent: "J-James Whitney... Jem."  
  
        Ringmaster's mouth curled up into a self-satisfied smirk. "Welcome to the family, Freak of Nature."


	3. Traveling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A new recruit happens upon the traveling caravan of wagons.

        A low, persistent growl rumbled around in Ringmaster's throat as a furry ball of black crept closer to his leg. He was sitting on the wooden bench-like seat mounted to the top of his wagon, directing the the wagon train's movements using the reins grasped in his hands. One would expect an ox or a team of mules to be harnessed on the other end of these reins, but that would not have been freakish enough for Ringmaster's tastes. Tumba and Taboo, the freak show's only two midget elephants, served as the caravan's sole mode of movement. With astonishing ease they pulled the wagons, making slow progress down the road as Jacob walked next to them to herd them away from distractions. Exiting and entering a town were always very distracting to the easily enthused elephants, so the whiskery brunette animal trainer was a welcome help at such times. Occasionally he would walk to the cage located at the caboose position to check on the male and female albino lions, though nothing could really go amiss as long as the peacocks didn't make it into the cage to torment the two lazy beasts.  
  
        Right now, the only tormenting going on was at the front. "Freak or not, I don't care anymore. If you jump onto my lap one more time, I will boot you off this wagon and let the wheels trample you down!"  
  
        The black cat froze in mid-pounce, stuck on her hind legs as the threat held her back. She gave a torn mewl and lowered her forepaws a couple inches. "... _Mew!_ " The cat pounced anyway. Ringmaster's eyes blazed! His gloved hand lifted, crossing over his vested chest in preparation for a back-handed slap to the kit's tiny body. It was then that Shibō's head peeked up over the edge of the roof in search for his fur ball of a friend. At the same time that he issued a cry of dismay upon viewing the cat's impending doom, the wagon jolted to a very sudden stop. Two top hats flew, one from Shibō's black-topped head and one from the ear-length burgundy hair of Ringmaster's head as both males jerked forward from the shock. On the ground before Ringmaster's wagon, Jacob knelt between the two midget elephants whose bodies had ceased all forward movement and backtracked quickly enough to jar the caravan's progression. They trumpeted once or twice, expressing their distress and writhing about in the confines of their harnesses as Jacob tried to calm them and locate the source of their fear.  
  
        Ringmaster noticed it first. It loomed in the trees off to the left side of the lonely dirt road, appearing as naught but a shadow under the cover of the dim morning light. Two red orbs stood out against the blackness, their round pinpoint pupils adding to the threatening appearance of whatever creature idled in the trees' dark shade. As Ringmaster leaned forward in his seat, his thin brows knitted together in his effort to strain his eyes for a closer look. No luck. It wasn't until the creature stepped into the road that the few onlookers could truly see its shape.  
  
        It was a canine of some sort, though its body was the size of a small bear. The fur on its ears was a deep blood red, as was the tip of its bushy tail. As it neared the elephants, Ringmaster tensed. He knew he was unprepared to find any sort of replacement transportation if the large wolfish creature decided to attack either of the two pachyderms. As if sensing his concern, the hound stopped and flicked its eyes upwards to hold Ringmaster's gaze, unfurling a set of large black wings with a snap. It held the wings there, displaying the red tips of the black feathers as though it were putting on a show.  
  
        By this time, Shibō and the cat had regained their footing. The cat had quickly skittered to the safety of the top of Shibō's head, painfully tangling its claws in his hair. The two watched the beast in silence, expectantly waiting for Ringmaster to act. Nothing happened. The bodies of all who were present remained still until a voice issued from the jowls of the black hound: " _Salve. Tu loquerisne Latine?_ "  
  
        Ringmaster recognized the language, though he disliked the old memories that it threatened to enliven. He shook his head, wary but clearly curious. "I'm not fluent in Latin. _Loquere Anglicus._ "  
  
        The hound gave a small huff and began to tremble, arching its back as its fur flattened against its skin and seem to sink into its body. It's shoulders and abdomen shrank as its entire form went from black to a tanned peach. Ringmaster noticeably began to salivate in his mouth as dollar signs began to express themselves in his mind. What a crowd he could attract with an act like this!  
  
        The hound's transformation took only a moment. No longer than a second or two passed before the hound stood before them on two feet as a human girl. She was average height and looked to be in her teen years, with grey-on-black skinny jeans and a grey v-neck t-shirt. Her irises were the same red as before and her straight black shoulder length hair held one streak of red in the front near her face. Even in her human form she retained the same canine ears and tail.  
  
        Again, the creature spoke. "So the rumors were true. Sideshow does exist." Ringmaster's jaw clenched in anticipation as the girl spoke, waiting for the words he so greedily longed to hear. The girl folded her wings against her back as she stepped forward, spooking the elephants into skittering further backwards. "My name is Roslynn and I would like to join this circus."  
  
        The magic words had been spoken. Ringmaster snapped to attention and slid off of his perch to land in a slight crouch on the short porch of the gypsie-like wagon. "You're a shapeshifter?" His fingers dragged across the ground to sweep up his striped top hat before his lithe form straightened to its full height.  
  
        The girl- Roslynn- shook her head. "I am a hellhound."  
  
        "Even better!" The girl pursed her lips together, clearly unamused by the man's antics. He had begun to rub his hands together now and she felt as though she were a prize sirloin being prepared for consumption. When he gestured towards the foremost wagon in the caravan, she started forward.   
"Come," Ringmaster uttered. "Let us discuss the terms of your employment."  
  
...  
  
        The interior of Ringmaster's wagon was as chaotic as the man himself. It was dim for want of electric lighting and navigating the messy floor was quite a task. The maze of clothes, ropes and papers stretched over the floor and extended up the wall like crawling ivy, though Roslynn found she could easily knock one down with her tail. As she followed the man into the wagon, he began to jabber away about Sideshow as he searched within the pockets of his jacket for a blank piece of paper.  
  
        "There are rules to being a Freak in my show, you know. We'll have to make sure you're quite familiar with them before you start," he drawled as he pulled out a small stack of slips of paper from his jacket. He paused in his speech to frown down at the stack, mumbling distractedly as he viewed each individual paper before promptly casting it over his shoulder. One by one, the slips drifted to the floor and added to the mess. "Aha! Here we go," he exclaimed as he came upon a blank paper piece. "Now, then..." He sat down in a particularly comfortable pile of clothes and procured a pen from within its depths. "Let us decide your wages."  
  
        The two began to haggle. Roslynn remained standing near the door while Ringmaster sat cross legged in the clothes pile, furiously writing numbers and figures down on his paper as Roslynn's wage was pushed up and down. Somehow during all that argument, the man managed to also add a cheeky haiku and a stick man to the paper, which he would later read out to the girl through a fit of laughter. The man did seem to laugh a lot when the mood struck him. At one point the haggling had to come to a halt so that Ringmaster could finish guffawing uncontrollably at one of Roslynn's offers. Yes, Ringmaster is _quite_ the unconventional haggler. Somewhere down the line, the man even seemed to forget whose side he was on.  
  
        "10 more," Roslynn insisted stubbornly, quite determined to come out of this with a decent wage.  
  
        "10 less," Ringmaster responded with a grin.  
  
        "10 more. And no less." Roslynn crossed her arms.  
  
        "15 more and no less." Ringmaster's grin widened.  
  
        Roslynn  frowned. "What?"  
  
        "What?" Ringmaster blinked confusedly and replayed his own offer back to himself in his head.  
  
        "I accept."  
  
        "I take it back!"  
  
        "Oh, _come on_!" Roslynn threw her hands up in the air with a very canine-esque whine.  
  
        When a deal was finally made, Ringmaster tossed the used paper up in the air, only to have it flutter down to rest on the top of his hat. He did not notice, and began to speak of Sideshow's ground rules as he stood from his seat in the clothes pile.  
  
        "Don't skip any shows," he began, wagging his finger sternly. "And don't damage my property. This includes the props, the wagons, and the Freaks. If you break a wheel, you pay for its replacement. If you break an arm, I break yours too. If you _take_ a life, well... I hope you follow."  
  
        Roslynn gave a huff, flicking her head as the red streak in her hair fell into her face. "You're posturing," she grumbled with an annoyed toss of her tail.  
  
        "I'm _threatening_ ," Ringmaster corrected as he lifted his index finger in a matter-of-fact manner. "And I don't threaten lightly. Oh, don't look so insulted. The same rules apply to everyone."  
  
        Roslynn gave a sigh and turned towards the door, but Ringmaster's voice stopped her. "Oh, and Roslynn..."  
  
        She turned.  
  
        "When you perform, _do_ put on a smile for the audience. I believe I am going to be the only creature around the circus that does _not_ mind that emotionless death stare. Fix it, will you? Fix it before you scare off a paying customer."   
  
        Roslynn gave frown, fixing said death stare on her new employer. Ringmaster stared back, regarding her with an air of amusement. Suddenly, the air gave a subtle ripple and the mirror on the vanity table across the room miraculously cracked.  
  
        Ringmaster arched a brow, his point now reinforced by the broken mirror. "Work on it."  
  
...  
  
        Outside the wagon, Ringmaster and his newest recruit parted ways. As Roslynn shifted into hound form and bounded off to go claim a bed in the caravan, Ringmaster turned his gaze upwards. His eyes followed the sound of a persistent, repetitive mewling that no doubt was coming from Shibō's blasted cat. The boy's hat-topped head poked over the side of the wagon and Ringmaster arched a brow. "Is that thing _really_ a girl?" he inquired skeptically. Rayne's furry head came into view as Shibō's head nodded furiously enough to nearly knock his hat off of his head. "Oh really," Ringmaster replied with a tone of disbelief. "Prove it then."  
  
        Rayne gave a resolute meow at the same time that Shibō's eyes widened in panic. He waved his hands in front of him, looking anxiously to the cat as he spoke: "No, wait wait wai--"  
  
        *POOF*  
  
        Shibō slapped his pale hands over his eyes with an embarrassed cry, nearly falling off of the wagon roof in his panic. Ringmaster could only throw his head back and guffaw, quite entertained by the girl's shape shift and the boy's reaction. For you see, human Rayne was quite unabashedly sitting there, completely unperturbed by the fact that she was totally and unmistakably nude.  
  
        Ah, well. Some Freaks are better at social modesty norms than others.


End file.
